Glass Eyes
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: Her nose burned and slightly dripped at the sight of the gorgeous man... However, it was too bad she had to kill him.


Atop a rooftop, a young woman lay on her stomach, fingering her treasurable gun. It was nighttime in the crowded streets of Victorian Era London. Nonetheless, the droves of people did not impair her search for her intended target that her current boss requested she eliminate. As the moon-full as she gazed at the rocky contours-rose into the cradling arms of the darkened sky, stragglers soon became glaringly apparent in the maze of roads. As proof of earlier visits, she knows who will come out next into the dusk of evil.

She watches, quite amused, as a man wanders alone into the street. With a peculiar shade of hair that seemed to glow in the moonlight and an air of…shall we say, individuality, the two would have made quite the pair. Smilingly ruefully to herself, she prepared to shoot at her target. It was quite a shame the light from his eyes would have to glimmer to nothing as soon as she was done with him. Such a waste of great potential…

With her almost inhuman eyesight, she zeroed in on her objective. A wiry build framed with the fashion of the time deeply accented his physique. Perched jauntily on his head of ginger locks was an ebony silk top hat. At the next feature that was to be explored, she scrutinized his face…nose burning at the images of all that hunk of body going to waste.

A pale face, quite common on British people, mind you-had the healthy glow of a childish innocence few possessed. How could someone so handsome and dashing, she thought, was chosen to die tonight? Thinking back, her boss said something about sexual offenses to little girls…

Her nose twitched because of all the fluid building up.

Although, she thinks as she gazes at the young man-why wasn't she doing her job?

She notes that he has a sly look about him. Brimming with mischief, the likes the assassin has never seen before, two amethyst eyes peeked beneath his hat.

"Such beauty," she whispers with reverence. How can this person she had been observing for the last few days, chain an emotional leash on her? However, as she forced her eyes to leave the man she had a contract to fulfill and the bills were not going to pay themselves.

It was the man's life or the money that would save the man she considered family and ultimately, herself. Hesitation is for the weak, her slender digits of mass killing reminded her. Pulling the trigger just enough to tell herself that this was business and not a show for women like her to ogle at men like him, she paused. Maybe, he could die of a heart attack and she wouldn't have to kill him! Flustered at herself for thinking such naïve thoughts, she let go, eyes trained on her victim.

In morbid fascination, she realizes that although she had shot down her intended prey, it seemed that the man was a human incarnation of a phoenix. Swiveling his head to meet hers, she realizes that even her superstitious fancies could have never prepared her for this. A sight that almost made her want to scream in terror, or swoon in delight as his eyes-his puppeteer eyes- finally made direct contact.

She saw a glimmer of devilish cunning; a knowing look that killed her inside.

Not one of her targets had realized she was there.

Yet here was this total stranger who rendered her sight useless and her plan to ambush him in the dust.

She had to act with haste, or they would both die.

Tautly, her gun was once again trained onto her quarry; this time, she will not lose her head to this…this…the cheek of it!

Even if her victims realized she was there, hunting in the shadows, they would at least have the decency to look afraid, or run away in terror. A fact that made the feral part of the red head smile in anticipation. But no! This ginger had to look at her in a patronizing way and smile smugly. No one dared look her in the eyes when she killed! At least, that way, she wouldn't have to see their humanity flickering away…

"So I think to myself, you are not a professional of your line of work." It was a whisper, not meant to be heard, but the sniper found it VERY audible. A grin sewn its way on his face. A cheerful disposition that would have caused the girl to reel forward in her inner fanatic mind, had she not heard him insult her.

Before she was a sniper, she was a girl living in the streets, no one to look after her. She had no name and she did not know that she was different. People would always mock her over her near blinding eyesight, most noticeably the children. Every time she would knock over a crate or trip over her own two feet, laughter was always there to accompany her. So it was a sense of relief to her when Father took her in. Boarding and money to do with whatever she pleased was available to her, if she completed the tasks set before her. It was a binding contract, death or allegiance. She had no one, who would care about that crazy demon girl with the coordination of a fallen angel?

However, there was only one person she wished to know about her sudden absence from the streets. A boy of nineteen when she was thirteen, he had showed her the ropes when she was abandoned. With his wacky hair and flirty attitude, the young lass had to at least say good-bye. He held her back once, concern on his usually happy countenance," Be sure of what you're doing."

Smiling slightly, she pulled his wayward hair down, and pressed a kiss on his chapped lips.

"Yes I will, Ronald! Yes I will!"

It wasn't until later that she realized that he blushed a bright tomato red when she had done that. He may have been a playboy at best, but he was the only one to instill a sense of confidence when she was left in doubt. _Do what you want till you DIE!_ Goodness, she missed his funny antics.

In order to repay him for all his kind deeds, she sent portions of her money to him, to help with the bad times.

Because of the ginger's lack of tact, it looked as if she was about to clean him of his actions. Permanently.

Executing an act of professionalism that no man would ever dream of achieving, she slid down the roofs of the buildings and down onto the ground. Without even stopping or pausing for inspection of her surroundings, she shot twice at the man's chest. She rolled away from the scene and ran to the next building for cover. Surely, he should be dead by now, yes?

"And I thought to myself, you must hate my fashion sense. But how are you allowed to say that when you are clad in a scandalous outfit?"

It was true, the dark haired amended when she hurriedly turned around to the navy clad man. Right where there would be bullet wounds, it appeared her attack landed on the chest, she noted with arrogance. However, that smugness would soon transform into dread as she realized that right where there was supposed to be bleeding, straw and stuffing came out. The miscellaneous objects that fell out ceased when a painfully sharp needle skillfully jabbed towards his coat, sealing away the evidence of a hole.

"Y-you are-" With a startled shriek she began to stumble backwards, up against the grimy wall. Stories of vampires and other creatures crawled into her mind as she saw that his thick boots advanced upon her.

"So I reasoned because of my precious run ins with governesses, it is rude to gape," a velvet voice, devoid of malice spoke right at her ear.

"W-what are you?"

An assassin should never stutter in the presence of her assignment, unless it was all an elaborate trap. Yet, with his appeal to the opposite sex and the fact that he was forbidden to her, made it seem more like the romance stories she liked to stow away in her room after voraciously reading them.

Smirking slightly, the young man before her took off his jaunty cap and placed it on her flowing burgundy hair. The eyes that seemed too genuine, too fake bore into her own. She no longer had any doubts that he must have done something to little girls, heck he was probably doing it to her right now!

"I am human, just like you." Pausing, his eyes-glass eyes-began to glint in reminiscence of a past far too confusing for the shooter to handle. "So I think to myself; how can this doll before me exhibit so much beauty?" Blood red eyes flashed in alarm and blushed at his compliment. "Figure of steel, eyes of ruby, and determination sturdy as wood. Sturdy, loyal, flexible, but with one fatal flaw," he whispered as a gloved finger stroked her sweat slicked face," it can be broken."

Strings sprouted from his hands and grasped onto the handle of the gun, jerking it away from her owner. A second later soft lips played with her own.

"Wha-?"

"Tell your puppeteer to get you a raise."

As he walked away he began to sing a happy, but saturnine song.

Now how was she supposed to explain this to the boss?


End file.
